


The Dragon's Heart

by ConsultingFangirl (DestinyWolfe)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur falls off a cliff and Merlin has to save her, Bi Arthur Pendragon, But mostly fluff, Camping, Canon Universe, F/F, Falling In Love, Fem!Arthur Pendragon, Female Arthur Pendragon, Female Merlin, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Genderbending, Girls Kissing, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lesbian Merlin, One Shot, Soulmates, a lil angst, fem!merlin, hurt Arthur, shameless flirting, they're both ridiculously in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyWolfe/pseuds/ConsultingFangirl
Summary: While out on a hunt, Princess Arthur falls off a cliff. She must rely on her maidservant, Merlin, to help her survive the night. Both girls have a lot of feelings, and they're terrible at hiding it.(Genderbent one-shot set in the canon era. Basically just fem!Merlin and fem!Arthur bickering and being Ridiculously In Love. As always, I don't own anything; I'm just messing around and having a good time.)





	The Dragon's Heart

**The Dragon’s Heart**

There were one hundred and one ways that a casual evening hunt could go wrong. Possibly more, given the participants: Princess Arthur, the biggest danger magnet in all of Albion, and Merlin, who had her fair share of deadly and powerful enemies lurking in the shadows like vengeful ghosts.

Which made it even more ironic that the inevitable catastrophe that befell them had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Arthur was the Crown Princess of Camelot, and Merlin the most powerful sorceress to have ever lived. All it took was a misplaced arrow and a mad scramble through the forest just before nightfall, and Arthur found herself falling down a rocky ravine like a pebble kicked loose on a steep path.

She struck the bottom of the ravine and lay there, gasping. Her armor was dented. She could feel wetness, warm and sticky, blooming across the plane of her stomach. All around her, brambles and thick foliage closed in like a fence of thorns—a cage for a wounded beast. Lifting her head, she called out in the half-light of dusk: “Merlin!” No reply. She winced, shifting onto her side. Pain flashed up her spine like a lightning bolt. She gritted her teeth and fell back, head resting on a not-particularly-soft rock. She stared up at the sky as the stars blinked into view. A thousand restless, hungry eyes. Watching her as she lay alone, bruised and bleeding among the ferns and mosses.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there. At one point she closed her eyes, hoping to collect her thoughts and gather her strength. But when she opened them again, the moon was shining overhead, a silver claw gutting the pitch-black sky. Clouds gathered, blocking out all but the brightest stars. In the distance, thunder rolled: the throaty roar of a hunting beast.

A storm was coming. And it was getting closer.

Arthur closed her eyes as the first drops fell. She turned her head to one side, raising her arm (the one that hadn’t taken the brunt of her fall) to keep herself dry. It was useless: within minutes, a few drops had turned to a downpour. She was drenched through in seconds.

“Merlin!” She tried again. Her voice was rough, battered, like the rest of her. “Where _are_ you?” 

Somewhere in the distance, a familiar voice called her name. “ _Arthur!_ ” The desperation pierced her like a gilded arrow. Struggling against the wave of agony that tore through her at the sudden movement, Arthur sat up, blinking against the freezing rain.

“Merlin!” Her voice was stronger. The adrenaline rushing through her veins gave her momentary relief from the pain. “Merlin, I’m down here!”

There was no reply. Arthur fell back again, groaning aloud. Of courseMerlin couldn’t find her. Merlin couldn’t find an arrow in an armory. Perfect.

Arthur was just beginning to think she’d have to spend the whole night alone in the thorn-fenced and rain-soaked clearing when she heard footsteps approaching. Instinctively, she reached for her sword. She grasped the hilt, struggling to pull it free. After a few seconds of angry swearing, she drew it. Flipping onto her stomach, she pushed herself into a half-sitting position. Holding her sword across her lap, she waited.

Merlin emerged from the thorns with her hands held out in front of her. Scratches covered her cheeks, hands, forearms. But the fire burning in her eyes was brighter than the silver moon. Determination like a storm showed in every tense line of Merlin’s lithe body. Determination that turned to blatant relief when she locked eyes with the princess. “Arthur!” she called. Her voice trembled with unrestrained joy.

Arthur flinched. She shook her head, trying not to let her own relief show on her face. “Quiet, Merlin. For all we know there could be a group of bandits hiding out in those caves up there.” She jerked her head toward a set of dark holes in the gray cliff-face overhead. “The last thing I need right now is a fight.”

Merlin knelt in front of Arthur. She reached for the princess’s face, then hesitated, frowning. Her hands fell like birds shot from the air. “That’s a first,” she said, with her familiar cheeky grin. Beneath the smile, Arthur read the worry brewing in Merlin’s eyes. “You, not wanting to fight. What’s the world coming to?”

Arthur rolled her eyes. She didn’t grace the verbal jab with a response. “Get me up, would you?”

“What, no ‘please?’” Merlin was in motion at once. She put both arms around Arthur, hoisting her to her feet. 

Arthur let out a sharp cry. She gritted her teeth against a fresh barrage of pain as her leg, clearly broken, gave out under her weight. She leaned against Merlin, panting. Her vision went blank for a second; she thought she was going to black out. Merlin was saying her name, over and over, concern thick as the thorn bushes surrounding them. A warm hand pressed against Arthur’s cheek. She leaned into the touch, shuddering as the heat of Merlin’s skin contrasted sharply with the frozen wetness of her now-sodden hunting clothes.

“C’mon, Arthur. C’mon.” Merlin looped an arm around Arthur’s back. She half-carried, half-guided the princess through the thorns. It took Arthur a moment to realize that Merlin was using her sword to hack through the thicket. She wanted to protest but didn’t have the strength. Closing her eyes, she leaned into Merlin, trusting her companion to get them both to safety. She would never admit it aloud, but there was no one Arthur would rather have by her side. Despite Merlin’s tendency to get herself into trouble (or to forget her seemingly simple duties in favor of frequenting the tavern), Arthur trusted her more than anyone else in the world.

Merlin led them deeper into the forest. Past the thicket, the trees were thinly spaced. Farther in, the trunks grew wider, and the undergrowth closer. Arthur struggled to stay conscious, every painful step harder than the last. She was too tired to shiver. Her breath came in sharp gasps, each inhale like an arrow to the gut.

Merlin seemed to sense Arthur’s growing discomfort. She kept glancing at the princess, blatant worry written in every line and plane of her beautiful, slender face. “Just a little further, Arthur,” she promised. “There’s a stream up ahead. I came across it when I was looking for you. We can camp there.”

Arthur nodded. She leaned her head on Merlin’s shoulder, breathing as steadily as she could. 

They reached the stream. Merlin helped Arthur lie down at the base of a massive pine, its thick, waxy branches serving as shelter against the storm. Arthur closed her eyes. It was a relief to be out of the rain. However, her clothes, scarlet and silver stained with the deep red of fresh blood, were soaked. Not that there was anything she could do about it. It wasn’t like she’d brought an extra set of clothes for what was supposed to be a casual evening hunt.

Merlin returned in seconds with a bundle of dry logs and twigs. Arthur tried to ask where she’d found such dry kindling in the middle of a storm, but Merlin just shook her head. “Don’t talk,” she said. “Save your strength.”

Arthur rolled her eyes. “Remind me, _Mer_ lin. Of the two of us, who should be giving orders, and who should be taking them?”

Merlin shrugged, turning away. She arranged the twigs and logs and crouched over them, her back to Arthur. There was a soft murmur like wind through the treetops. And then a fire blazed to life between Merlin’s hands.

Arthur raised her eyebrows. “That was quick,” she said.

Merlin prodded the fire with a stick, then tossed the stick into the flames. She returned to Arthur’s side. There was a small, mysterious smile on her lips. “There’re a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she said.

Arthur huffed. “Stop pretending to be interesting, Merlin.”

“If you insist.” Merlin pulled Arthur upright again. Arthur flinched, closing her eyes again the pain. When she opened them again, Merlin’s face was inches from her own, full of dark concern. Arthur blinked, surprised. 

“Merlin, what are you…?”

“I thought you’d passed out again.” Merlin leaned back. Something flashed across her face: an expression Arthur couldn’t place. “We need to get this armor off you. You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” Arthur managed a dark smile. “Do whatever you have to do. I trust your judgement completely.” 

The words were out before Arthur realized what she was saying. Merlin paused, tilting her head. There was an unreadable emotion in her eyes. “You do?”

If Arthur hadn’t just lost an obscene amount of blood, she was pretty sure she would’ve flushed bright red. Ducking her head, she avoided Merlin’s intense gaze, staring pointedly into the fire. “Just do it.”

Merlin was silent as she helped Arthur remove her hauberk, arm guards, gloves, and chainmail. She set the princess’s chipped and battered sword aside, laying out her clothes to dry. Once Arthur was free of her armor, Merlin’s slender, capable hands roamed every inch of Arthur’s body, gently testing for breaks and abrasions. “You’ve got a gash just beneath your ribs,” Merlin told her. Her voice was false-upbeat, which made Arthur suspicious. Whatever Merlin had found, it couldn’t be good. “It’s not long, but it’s deep. You’re still losing blood.”

Arthur nodded. She’d expected that. “And?” 

Merlin sighed. She frowned. “I think you’ve broken a couple of ribs on your right side. Oh, and your left arm and leg are definitely broken.”

Arthur let out her breath slowly, carefully. It wasn’t good, but so far, it sounded like she would survive. “Oh, is that all.”

Thankfully, Merlin nodded. “Unless you’ve hit your head. You were unconscious earlier.”

Arthur leaned back against the pine tree’s trunk. She spread her hands: an invitation. “Go ahead. Check me.”

Merlin knelt in front of Arthur. She put her hands on either side of the princess’s face. The heat of her touch filled Arthur with warmth. The warmth was accompanied by a strange but pleasant tingling—a fresh, vibrant sensation that traveled down Arthur’s spine and radiated out into her limbs. Arthur inhaled sharply, her eyes fixed on Merlin’s face. 

“Your eyes seem to be responding to the light.” Merlin’s hands moved around to the back of Arthur’s head. Her fingers carded through the princess’s light hair, fingertips gently tracing the contours of Arthur’s neck and skull. “That’s good. Means you’re probably fine.”

Arthur made a soft sound of confirmation. Despite the gash in her side and the ceaseless throbbing of her broken bones, she felt much better than she had a few minutes ago. And, although she’d never admit it, she owed it all to Merlin.

Merlin finished checking Arthur and pulled her hands back. Arthur immediately missed her touch. 

“So?” Arthur cocked an eyebrow, looking up at Merlin as her servant rocked back onto her heels, cupping her chin in one hand and bracing her elbow on her knee. “Is that all?”

Merlin nodded. She had a strange, faraway look in her eyes. “If we get you back to Gaius by tomorrow, you’ll be fine. Unless hypothermia sets in.”

Arthur smirked. “What a big word, Merlin. Do you even know what it means?”

“It means,” said Merlin, straightening up and moving back toward the fire, “that if we don’t get you out of those wet clothes soon, you’ll literally freeze your royal arse off.”

Arthur scoffed. “Literally?”

“Figuratively.”

“Where _do_ you learn such big words, Merlin?”

Merlin smiled. “I’d tell you,” she said, “but you ordered me not to be interesting.”

Arthur picked up the nearest loose object—a spiny pinecone—and threw it at her. Merlin ducked; the cone fell into the fire and went up in a burst of sparks. “Get over here,” said Arthur imperiously, “and undress me.”

Merlin blushed. Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin returned to Arthur’s side; kneeling in the moss and dirt, she pulled Arthur’s shirt over her head and laid it beside the fire to dry. She avoided meeting Arthur’s eyes as they both struggled to remove the princess’s boots and leggings. Once Arthur was free of her rain-soaked clothes, she looked up at Merlin with a small smile. “Now you,” she said. “Fair’s fair.”

Merlin blushed again, deeper this time. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I’m not even that wet, see?” She squeezed her scarf, probably hoping to prove her point. But a small river’s worth of water seeped out; with a sigh, Merlin pulled it off and set it on a rock next to the fire. “Fine,” she said. “You win.”

“I always do.” Arthur lay back, relishing the feeling of soft moss and leaves against her bruised and battered skin. She put her uninjured arm behind her head, propping herself up just enough to watch as Merlin peeled off her sodden layers. 

“Well,” said Merlin, pulling off her boots and setting them next to Arthur’s, “I wouldn’t say _always._ ”

Arthur gave her a _look_. “I would. Now hurry up and help me with my wound. What’s the point of saving me from hypothermia if I’m only going to bleed out anyway?”

Merlin rolled her eyes in plain sight. Which, given Arthur’s current state, was acceptable only because the princess didn’t have the strength to retaliate. “What do you want me to use for bandages?”

Arthur jerked her head toward Merlin’s scarf. “Make sure it’s dry,” she said. “It should work fine.”

Merlin looked like she wanted to protest. But then her gaze flickered down to Arthur’s wound, still seeping blood, and she swallowed hard, nodding. She grabbed her scarf off the rock and returned to Arthur’s side. Without warning, she pressed the fabric down hard over the gash. Arthur let out a harsh cry. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth and throwing back her head. Involuntary tears leaked out onto her bloodless cheeks. She breathed in rough, ragged gasps, fighting to control the pain.

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin with heartbreaking sincerity. “I’m sorry, Arthur; it’ll be over soon.”

Arthur reached out, searching for something to hold onto. Merlin caught her hand and held on tight, not even flinching when the princess squeezed so hard her bones must’ve been grinding together. They stayed like that for a long minute, both breathing hard, until Arthur’s heartrate slowed and her pain dipped back to a manageable level.

“That was horrible.” Arthur’s voice broke on the last syllable. She cleared her throat, swallowing hard.

Merlin let out a shaky laugh. “I’m surprised you didn’t faint again.”

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t _faint_ , Merlin.”

“You do. You’re a princess, and you faint like one.”

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin.”

“Whatever you say, My Lady.”

Arthur was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that both she and her maidservant were mostly unclothed, and that Merlin’s hand was held tight in her own. She knew she should let go. But she couldn’t bring herself to. Although the worst of the pain had passed, the physical contact was immensely comforting.

Merlin moved away first. She flashed Arthur half a smile, worry still visible in the oceanic depths of her eyes. “Our clothes should be dry in a few more minutes,” Merlin said. She turned around, facing the fire. 

That’s when Arthur saw the bruises covering her companion’s slender shoulders like spilled ink on parchment.

“Merlin.” She sat up, staring at the patterns of blue and brown scattered across Merlin’s pale skin. She felt suddenly sick. Her heart beat faster as possibilities raced through her mind. “My God, what happened to you?”

Merlin glanced over her shoulder. For a moment her eyebrows contracted in an expression of confusion. And then her eyes cleared, and she offered a forced half-smile. “Oh. I tripped.”

“You _tripped_?”

“I tripped.” Merlin turned back to the fire. She fed twigs into the flames. There was tension in the lines of her bare back, her shoulders hunched slightly. The fire caught in her sleek black hair, gleaming like burning raven feathers. She avoided Arthur’s searching gaze. “At least I didn’t fall off a cliff and almost die like some royal prats I know.”

Arthur pushed herself into a fully-upright position. She leaned against the pine tree’s broad, rough trunk. “Merlin.” Her tone was gruff, commanding. “Come here.”

“Your clothes will be dry in a minute, My Lady, if you’d just let me—”

“Merlin, _now_.”

Merlin huffed. She straightened up. Turned back toward Arthur, crossing her arms over her chest. A silhouette against the leaping, dancing flames. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” Arthur lifted her chin. She stared Merlin down, refusing to blink or look away.

After a few tense seconds, Merlin sighed. She moved away from the fire, back toward the pine tree. She stood beside Arthur, looking off into the dark, rain-soaked forest. “Is this close enough, My Lady, or do you want me sitting in your lap?”

Truthfully, Arthur wouldn’t mind that one bit. But she couldn’t say so aloud; instead, she reached up and grabbed Merlin’s wrist. She pulled her maidservant down to eyelevel. “I need to know that you’re alright.” She left no room for argument in her tone.

Merlin, always the rebel, made her own room. “I’m fine. I told you—”

“I heard you.” Arthur let go of Merlin’s wrist. “Turn around and sit down. I promise it’ll just take a moment.”

“Oh, you promise?” Despite her clear reluctance, Merlin followed Arthur’s command.

“I’m the First Knight of Camelot, Merlin. I’m honor-bound to keep my promises.”

Merlin flinched as Arthur’s fingers traced the edges of her largest bruise. It was right between her shoulder blades, directly over her spine. “Right. Well promise me this, then: no more falling off cliffs.” 

Arthur snorted. She gently poked the bruise; Merlin made a sharp sound of protest. “You seem alright. ‘s long as nothing hurts more than it should, I’d say they’re superficial.”

Merlin glanced back at Arthur. She was smiling. “Superficial?”

“You seem a fan of big words.” Arthur shrugged. She expected Merlin to move away again, to stand up and return to the fire. Merlin didn’t move. Arthur hesitated for a long moment, then gently pressed her hand to the base of Merlin’s neck. Merlin shuddered under her touch. Holding her breath, Arthur traced the ridge of Merlin’s spine with one finger. Merlin’s skin was hot, burning under Arthur’s hands. Dragon scales beneath the summer sun.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was soft. Low. There was half a question in her tone. The same nameless emotion Arthur had seen cross Merlin’s face earlier was laced through it like a golden thread.

“Merlin.” Arthur brought her hand up to Merlin’s neck. She slid her fingers through her companion’s thick dark hair. “Look at me, Merlin.”

Merlin turned slowly. Hesitance showed in every tense line of her body. Her gaze locked with the princess’s. They were so close that Arthur could see the firelight dancing in Merlin’s blue eyes. A strange golden hue that rose and fell like sunlight on ocean waves. Arthur couldn’t help it—her gaze fell to Merlin’s lips, and in that instant, she gave herself away.

Merlin smiled. She put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, sliding it over her collarbone until her fingers wrapped around the princess’s throat. Arthur’s heartbeat spiked at Merlin’s soft touch. Under Merlin’s thumb, her pulse beat like a dragon’s wings. “Do you—?” Merlin started to ask.

“God, yes,” Arthur breathed, and pressed her lips to Merlin’s. She closed her eyes, sliding her fingers through Merlin’s hair, pulling her closer. The pain in her side lessened. Adrenaline and endorphins flooded her brain. She felt light, elated, timeless. The world shrank around her, condensed into the single point where their lips met.

Merlin pulled back first. Her expression was unreadable. And then she smiled, brighter than dragonfire. Brighter than the sun.

“I think,” said Arthur slowly, still reeling from the force of emotion raging in her like a maelstrom, “I might be in love with you.”

Merlin laughed. Arthur fell in love with the sound of her breathless joy. “Well, that’s good to hear. Because I’m definitely in love with you. Even though you’re an arrogant, stuck-up, hot-headed, royal pain in my—"

Arthur shut her up with a second kiss. She smiled against Merlin’s lips, tracing the high crests of her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. She cupped Merlin’s face as she pulled away, tilting her head slightly as she took in every sharp line and smooth plane. “You were saying?” she challenged.

“Was I?” Merlin ran her fingers through Arthur’s golden hair. She moved closer, until their chests were pressed together. She leaned in and kissed Arthur’s forehead, moving down to the tip of her nose, her lips, her chin, and the sharp line of her jaw. But then the hand pressed to Arthur’s stomach brushed the makeshift bandage beneath the princess’s ribs, and she stopped, pulling away. She frowned. “It’s getting colder. You need to get dressed. And you need sleep.”

“We should sleep,” Arthur said, “together. I don’t need clothes for that.”

Merlin’s eyebrows contracted. “What?”

“I said, I think we should sleep together.”

Merlin sighed. She pressed another kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth, then stood up. The firelight illuminated every inch of her slender body. Like an ageless moon goddess, pale and lithe and gorgeous. She paced around the fire, picking up their scattered clothes. “I want to, Arthur. You know I do.”

“Then why not?” Arthur frowned, wincing when she shifted, her side throbbing in protest.

Merlin gave her a _look_. “You’re hurt.”

Arthur shrugged a shoulder. The one not connected to a broken arm. “So? There’s a lot I can do with one hand.”

Merlin blushed. “I’m sure there is, My Lady.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Merlin smirked. “Whatever you say, My Lady.”

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur pouted like a petulant child. “Why not?”

Merlin put on her leggings, then her boots. She pulled her shirt—the blue one, the one that brought out the sapphire in her eyes—over her head, tightening the laces before throwing on her worn brown jacket. She avoided Arthur’s eyes as she mumbled, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Arthur laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” Merlin returned to Arthur’s side. She dumped a heap of red cloth and brown leather beside the princess. Leaning down, she put a hand on Arthur’s forehead. “I’m serious, Arthur. You need to rest. I think you’re developing a fever.”

Arthur, sensing she was getting nowhere with her current approach, switched tactics. “Did you know,” she said, rather imperiously, “that getting off is a natural way of relieving pain?”

Merlin raised her eyebrows, blushing again. Without a word, she shook out Arthur’s undershirt, holding it up. With a resigned sigh, Arthur lifted her arms and allowed Merlin to work the garment onto her body. Merlin smoothed the fabric around the princess’s body. Mysteriously, the cloth was entirely clean and dry. The bloodstains had vanished. The dirt and thorns had disappeared. Arthur would’ve been suspicious, if her head hadn’t been so clouded by blood loss and desire.

Once both girls were dressed, Merlin helped Arthur move closer to the fire. She spread her coat over the moss, despite Arthur’s protests.

“I’m a knight, Merlin. I don’t need to be coddled.”

Merlin ignored her. “I’ll keep watch. You sleep.”

With a frustrated huff, Arthur settled down on the makeshift bed. She stretched out, careful to avoid putting pressure on any of her broken bones. “I’m the Crown Princess of Camelot, Merlin. Don’t tell me what to do.”

Merlin flashed her a cheeky smile. “I’ll stop telling you what to do when you stop doing what I tell you,” she replied.

Arthur rolled her eyes at her maidservant. She rolled onto her back. The rain had stopped; overhead, the crescent moon sunk in a sky full of stars. “When we get back to the castle—” she began, but Merlin cut her off.

“When we get back to the castle, I’m taking you straight to Gaius. Once he treats you, then we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Alright. We won’t talk. We’ll go back to your chambers and spend the entire day not talking to our hearts’ content. But first, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time, but never have. I just hope you won’t chop my head off when you hear it.”

Arthur grinned. She turned her head just enough to meet Merlin’s gaze. “You’re doing it again.”

Merlin frowned. “Doing what?”

“Pretending to be interesting.”

There was a long moment of silence. And then Arthur said, “Nothing you say could ever make me hate you, Merlin. I promise you that.”

Merlin smiled. The special, radiant smile that made Arthur’s heart beat harder and her mind spin. The kind that felt like staring at the sun. “You can’t take it back now,” Merlin said. “Knights and their promises.”

“I mean it.” Arthur scooted over, making room on the makeshift bed. She patted the space beside her. “Now come here. You’re warm, and I’m freezing.”

Merlin sat down beside Arthur. Arthur curled around her like a cat, her stomach pressed against Merlin’s back. They sat there in silence as the seconds turned to minutes. A comfortable calm fell over their little campsite. After a while, Arthur’s eyes drifted shut. Her thoughts were foggy with approaching sleep. Even so, she felt it when Merlin’s fingers threaded through her hair, a gentle reassurance that Arthur was not alone. That she would never be alone.

The moon set behind the distant hills. The stars blinked out as the sun rose in a robin’s-egg sky. At dawn, Arthur and Merlin rose together. Each supporting the other, they retraced their path back through the woods, up the gravelly slope, and back toward the worn gray castle that they called home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! So I've been trying to get back into writing for a few months now, and I finally got inspired to write this lil one-shot. It's been ages since I wrote anything for BBC Merlin, and even longer since I wrote a genderbend fic, but Merlin and Arthur are some of my favorite characters ever, and being the useless lesbian that I am, I couldn't help myself. :) Hopefully y'all enjoyed this! If you feel like leaving me some thoughts or feedback, I would absolutely love it! Thank you so much. <3


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